The Three Words
by ItsMyIceCream428
Summary: After a tragic accident, Mitch starts to realize his feelings for Jerome. Will the couple be able to come together? Merome one-shot! Rated T for cussing and some blood.


The memory stayed in his head. It was all he could think about.

Mocking him.

Taunting him.

Like a tattoo - forever embedded into his brain.

He wished to erase it. Get rid of it and never think of it again.

How could he forget, though? The screeching tires? The blaring sirens? The blood, staining the black pavement?

Jerome's blood?

* * *

It was supposed to be an ordinary day in Los Angeles. The busy afternoon commute, the hot sun, the people outside that were eating ice cream, shopping, or just laughing and hanging out with their friends. Just like Jerome and Mitch. Each with a cup of ice cream in their hands, they walked down street, laughing and talking.

"Wait, Mitch, remember that one time when we were playing Cops and Robbers with Adam, Ty and Ian?" Jerome asked between mouthfuls of chocolate ice cream. "That was _awesome_!"

"Yeah, since you convinced Adam to make you operator and you did /kill deadlox the whole time after that," Mitch laughed, a faint blush spreading across his cheeks. Man, Jerome was adorable when he laughed. He stared for a moment, then snapped back to reality as Jerome spoke again.

"I still don't get why he de-opped me and kicked me," Jerome said mock-thoughtfully as they stopped at the corner of the intersection. "I was helping him win." As they laughed, the light showed a white symbol of a person walking, signifying that they could cross.

"Come on, let's go," said Mitch. The duo stepped off the sidewalk, onto the black pavement. Mitch was a few meters in front of Jerome.

That's when he heard the dreaded noise of screeching tires. Followed by a thud that seemed to fill the air.

Mitch whipped around. There was a black car with dents on the front, and a large group of screaming people.

But all he could focus on was Jerome's battered, bloody, broken body.

He just stood there, paralyzed with shock and fear. No. No, no, no no no. That couldn't be Jerome. Jerome should be walking, laughing,_ breathing _- but no. He lay on the road, legs broken, arms cut open, a gash on his head. Suddenly, sirens interrupted the commotion. An ambulance was heading towards the mob of frightened pedestrians. A group of paramedics carefully loaded Jerome onto a stretcher. A woman a bit shorter than Mitch walked up to him and motioned for him to come in the ambulance. He barely registered it in his mind as he walked over, zombie-like, to the white vehicle.

* * *

_A day later...  
_

* * *

Mitch walked into the hospital a day after the accident. The white walls filled with inspirational posters gave the room a cheery look, making it seem like a happy place.

How deceiving.

Mitch made his was up to the receptionist's desk. The receptionist, a blonde woman with glasses, looked up from her computer.

"Can I help you, sir?" she asked.

"Yeah, can I have the directions to Jerome Aceti's room?" he asked. He could hear his voice quaver. He was nervous. Nervous about seeing Jerome in a hospital bed. Maybe he wouldn't even be awake. Maybe he would be told the three words he never wanted to hear.

"Hold on," said the receptionist, typing into her computer. "Yes, Mr. Aceti is in room 32. Take the first right, it's the second door on your left."

"Thanks," he whispered. With that, Mitch made his way to room 32. He stopped in front of the wooden door with the metal plate reading '32'. Taking a deep breath, he opened the door.

Mitch wanted to cry. Jerome was lying in bed, eyes closed. A blood-stained bandage was wrapped around his head, his body covered by a blanket. Tubes stuck out of him, providing him with nutrients. A monitor kept track of his slow heartbeat.

"Jerome..." Mitch murmured. He pulled up a stool and sat at Jerome's bedside. "Why did you have to take the fall? Why couldn't I be the one in this bed? You didn't deserve it..." Mitch's voice trails off. Jerome makes not a sound.

"Jerome... I need to tell you something. You aren't going to hear it, but... I just want to get it off my chest. Okay?

"Jerome, ever since the start, I guess I've always had this little... crush, on you. I always got butterflies in my stomach when we talked. I love when you laugh, when you smile, when we record - I want to cherish every moment with you. And now you're about to leave me. Please, Jerome, I know you can pull through. Power moves only, right?" Mitch let out a weak laugh. "But seriously, Jerome... I like you. A lot. Watching you in this bed right now just breaks my heart. Please, Jerome, please wake up."

At this point Mitch's eyes were teary. He blinked rapidly, trying to prevent the tears from escaping.

"Jerome... please wake up..."

He bent over and softly kissed Jerome's forehead.

And the first tears escaped.

* * *

_And the next day...  
_

* * *

_Ring! Ring! Ring!_

"I'll get it!" Mitch yelled, rushing to get the phone. It was 8:00 in the morning, and the guys were having breakfast. Mitch grabbed the phone before it went to voicemail. "Hello?"

"Is this Mitchell Hughes?" a female voice inquired. He recognized it as the receptionist at the hospital.

"Yeah... what's wrong?" he asked, worried.

"Your friend, Mr. Aceti... apparently there was serious internal bleeding in his brain. There was no way our doctors could save him without killing him-"

"Wait a minute," Mitch interrupted. "What do you mean 'was'"?

He could hear the woman take a deep breath. "I'm sorry, sir, but Mr. Aceti died late last night."

* * *

The funeral was three days later.

Mourners gathered around, some breaking into tears as they remembered Jerome. A group of Youtubers hung around, not saying anything.

Then there was Mitch. Standing beside Jerome's open coffin, playing with something in his hands.

"God dammit Jerome... why?" he asked the body. Of course, there was no reply. Only silence.

"Jerome... oh, screw this. Jerome, I'm going to miss you. I'm going to miss hanging out, making Minecraft videos and vlogs - remember when you shot me in the eye with a Nerf gun? As painful as it was, it's a good memory. You know what my biggest regret is, though?"

Mitch paused for a few beats, staring at Jerome's body. He could've been sleeping. He had such a peaceful look on his face...

"Not telling you those three words when you could hear them."

The priest cleared his throat and people hurried to sit down. Mitch took one last look and placed the item he was holding under Jerome's arm before hurrying to sit down. He managed to grab a seat next to Adam, at the end of a row.

"You okay, Mitch?" Adam whispered to him. "You haven't been yourself lately."

Mitch gulped. "Yeah, I'm fine," he said, and put on a fake smile.

"You sure?" Adam asked. He looked really worried. "I mean, I don't blame you, but... is there another reason?"

He could tell Adam. He was his friend. He wouldn't care, right?

"Nope. I'm good," Mitch lied. Adam looked at him suspiciously, then turned back as the priest began to speak.

After all the speeches were over, the coffin was taken out to be buried.

No one noticed the stuffed bacca tucked under Jerome's arm, with a note tucked in its arm.

* * *

_A month later...  
_

* * *

The depression was getting to him.

Mitch stared at a photo of him and Jerome at MineCon from the previous year while sitting on his bed. That was all that had been on his mind.

Jerome.

The loss of his best friend and crush had affected him deeply, probably worse than the other members of Team Crafted. As the month went by, he gradually ate less and less. He seemed to spend a lot more time making videos, even pulling all-nighters for two weeks straight. All the smiles on his face seemed to be glued on - you could tell by the effort it seemed to take and the gaunt look in his eyes. He hardly left his room and hung out with the other guys. Mitch looked down at his arm. He slowly pulled off a wristband, revealing several cuts, some scabbing over.

He couldn't take it anymore. Springing up from his bed, he yanked open a drawer and grabbed a knife, blood staining the blade. He stormed out of his room and ran down the hall to the bathroom, almost running down Jason.

"Mitch? What's- wait, what's with the knife?" Jason asked cautiously, eyes wide. Mitch just stared at him, breathing heavily.

"Dude, just give me the knife. It'll be-"

"Stay away!" Mitch screamed, starting towards Jason. Startled, Jason immediately retreated. Mitch slowly walked backwards, shaking the knife and fake-lunging towards Jason. When he was sure he had enough distance, he turned and continued towards the washroom.

"What the- GUYS!" Jason yelled, running downstairs. Mitch entered the bathroom and slammed the door shut. He looked in the mirror. What did he see?

A skinny, gaunt, 20-year old man with bags under his eyes and a knife in his hand. He looked slightly insane.

"God dammit - MITCH!" he heard someone yell. One of the guys, probably.

"I'm coming, Jerome," he whispered. Then he thrust the knife into his chest. And then he was falling.

Falling deeper into death's embrace.

The last thing he saw was Adam opening the door with a shocked look on his face before the darkness took over.

* * *

Mitch opened his eyes. He was in a village with a bunch of people. Groggy, he sat up, rubbing his eyes.

_Ow. _He thought. He looked down at his chest. Sure enough, there was a deep cut, some of the flesh coming off.

"Hey, biggums," a voice said. Mitch turned around, wincing from the pain.

"I got your note," said Jerome teasingly, waving it around, a grin spreading across his face. Mitch could feel one appearing on his face too.

This time, though, it was genuine.

"Well? Don't you have something you want to say to me?" Jerome teased. Mitch could feel the blood rushing to his cheeks.

"Yeah, I do," he replied, a cocky grin on his face. Then he grabbed Jerome and kissed him.

It was like the sun was shining again and the birds were chirping in the world of Mitch Hughes. Jerome's lips were as soft as a flower petal. **(WEIRD ANALOGY, I KNOW, DON'T KILL MEH.) **The embrace became tighter and tighter until Mitch gasped in pain. The two immediately broke away.

"You okay?" Jerome asked, worry in his eyes.

"Yeah, just the cut," Mitch replied.

"Let's go," Jerome suggested. "We have an eternity together, and I refuse to waste a single minute of it."

Mitch grinned. "Okay." The duo made their way into the village.

"I love you, Jerome," Mitch whispered.

"Love you too," Jerome replied, pecking him on the cheek.

Oh, and the note? Here's what it said.

_The three words I always wanted to say, but was too afraid to:_

_I love you. _

_-Mitch_

**A/N There was The Three Words! I want to apologize for not updating my main two stories, but I am working on Chapter 9 of AWOH. Hope to get it out by next week. Also:**

**IT'S MAH BIRTHDAY! I'm officially 13! YAY! Here's my gift to you guys! Anyways, I'm ItsMyIceCream428, and I will speak to ya soon!**

**Mitch: Why do I always die?!**

**Me: Sowwy Mitch… **

**~ItsMyIceCream428~ **

**One last thing:**

**#MEROME!**


End file.
